Katsuki continued walking down the sidewalk, his hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy jeans. In truth, he was only half-listening to Izuku's description of what had gone on during art class. Katsuki's mind was instead focused on less pleasant thoughts of the previous day, and how events would likely start right back up again the moment he stepped through the door of his home.

"…Kacchan?" Izuku tried again, his voice a bit louder. "Is something wrong?"

"What?" Katsuki asked instinctively as he blinked himself free from his train of thought. "No. Don't worry about it."

"Did something h-"

"Shut it, Deku," Katsuki warned with a venomous look. "It's exactly what you think it is, and there's no point in talking about it. So just shut up and save us both the trouble."

"…sorry," Izuku offered as he ran a hand up through his mess of tangled green hair. "Uh, do you have to be home by seven, still?"

"What do you think?" Katsuki asked, his lip curled back into a sneer. "Of course I do. Doesn't matter that we're sophomores now. Doesn't matter that it's a weekend. Just two more years, and I'll be free of this bullshit."

Izuku fell silent and mimicked Katsuki's posture by stuffing his hands into his own pockets. It wasn't long before Katsuki made a sudden turn as the boys reached an intersection, and Izuku had to backpedal to catch up to his friend.

"Hey! Wh-"

"We're going in here," Katsuki interrupted with a quick nod toward a large building. A deep blue diagonal awning cast shade onto the sidewalk below, and an arrangement of large white letters reading Jiro Sound Selections was set into the brickwork proudly above it.

Izuku blinked in surprise as he followed Katsuki into the shop. Rows upon rows of CDs and vinyl records stood proudly in the center of the room, while various instruments were hung up or sitting upon stands up against the walls on every side.

"Whoa," Izuku remarked as he looked around at the displays of new music near the front of the store. "I've never been in here before…"

"Yeah, me neither," Katsuki admitted as he paused briefly to look over a standee with nearly a hundred copies of a newly released album. "I need some gear."

"…you play an instrument?" Izuku asked, his voice light with curiosity.

"Yeah. Drums," Katsuki answered proudly, with something almost approaching a smile.

Izuku snorted, his face breaking out into a wide grin as Katsuki turned and gave him a dirty look.

"Of course you play drums," Izuku replied while shaking his head.

"…and what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Katsuki spat, his jaw suddenly clenched and eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you know," Izuku said as he raised his hands in front of himself defensively. "It's just so… you. Drums are loud, aggressive, wild, and beating on them just seems like the kind of thing you'd do. Something technical and focused like a guitar just doesn't seem 'right', you know? Drums were my first guess, honestly."

Katsuki merely stared at Izuku, his anger rising and mixing with disgust as his eye twitched. He opened his mouth to lay into his friend before he noticed subtle movement in his peripheral vision. In response, he snapped his head to the side to see a clerk wearing torn jeans and a band shirt waiting off to the side and between the two boys.

The girl appeared to be about Katsuki's age, and her expression wasn't far off from his own. She, too, had her eyes fixed on Izuku with a disgusted look, though her stare held more of a cold fury than a blazing anger like Katsuki's. The girl had deep purple hair that appeared almost black in the dim light of the shop, and red teardrop patterns were etched just beneath her tired eyes. Her earlobes extended nearly down to her shoulders and ended in razor-sharp headphone jacks. A nametag reading "Kyoka" hung upon a lanyard around her neck.

"…welcome to Jiro Sound Selections," the girl said icily before turning her attention toward Katsuki and softening her expression a bit. "I can show you where accessories and equipment related to drumming are located, if you'll follow me."

"Yeah. Sure," Katsuki replied as he moved to follow Kyoka through the aisles and past other customers without sparing Izuku another look. The smaller boy jogged to catch up to the pair, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Kacchan, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just… kinda funny, right? With your Quirk, a-"

"I don't care what you meant," Katsuki interrupted. "I care that you're stupid. Drums are extremely technical… and so is my Quirk. You think it's all just random noise and big explosions? You think there's no thought or skill behind it, and it's just banging on something or blowing things up? Or are you just being purposefully ignorant out of jealousy? You've never even seen me fight for real."

Izuku stopped talking as he looked down to the varnished wooden flooring of the shop. The trek across the store seemed to take ages, and provided more than enough time for Katsuki to double down on his anger.

"You know, I was starting to think that maybe you had some brains, but you just throw yourself straight into shit you know nothing about all the time, don't you?" Katsuki accused as he looked over his shoulder. "Do you even know where the bass pedal is, or what it's for?"

"…no," Izuku admitted as he refused to meet Katsuki's eyes. "I'm sorry, Kacchan. I wasn't thinking…"

"Here," Kyoka said in an annoyed tone as she came to a stop and turned to face the boys. The girl gestured to a wall filled with sticks, cymbals, covers, and other assorted accessories. She finished by nodding toward a medium-sized drum kit set up in the corner before giving Katsuki a sympathetic look. "Maybe I could better help you if I saw your style of playing?"

"And maybe I could drill some sense into his thick skull with a demo," Katsuki added as he approached the kit. He sat down upon the stool heavily and grabbed a pair of sticks from an attachment upon the central drum, before beginning to twirl one of them between his fingers while glaring at Izuku. "Learn what you're dealing with before you make dumbass commentary."

Izuku merely watched as Katsuki began a soft, gentle rhythm with only the hi hat and bass pedal while continuing to twirl the other stick in his free hand. With three quick strikes against one of the cymbals, he launched into a faster, more complicated beat as the noise of his efforts began to fill the room.

"It's not all just loud, flashy solos and hitting as hard as you can," Katsuki began, keeping his eyes on Izuku as his arms seemed to move on autopilot. "There's a time for that, and a time to hold back. There's a complicated series of interactions between the drum heads, the cymbals, the bass, and the sticks, not to mention a full band. It takes the ability to keep track of multiple things at once and keep things balanced- just like my Quirk."

"I guess… I just never really paid much attention to it before," Izuku confessed as he watched Katsuki change his time signature and begin a complicated rhythm.

"Shocking. I put just as much effort into this as I do training. Don't just assume you know shit. Do that with the wrong people or at the wrong time, and you'll get your ass kicked," Katsuki warned.

Izuku merely watched as Katsuki continued on, playing for nearly three minutes. The blond ended with a heavy blow to a crash cymbal, his breathing slightly elevated as he nonchalantly slipped the sticks back into their holster. Kyoka merely smirked at the display and gave Katsuki a nod of approval.

"Kacchan… that was incredible," Izuku praised as he watched his friend slip off of the stool and stand once again.

Katsuki merely snorted as he moved to follow Kyoka without a word.

Katsuki remained hunched over, breathing hard as sweat rolled down his face and neck. The boy kept his crossed sticks resting upon his bare knees as he tried to catch his breath, the crash cymbal still tilting back and forth after a heavy finishing strike. The next track on Katsuki's album began to blare through his headphones, but the boy remained focused on just breathing as he looked at the walls of his bedroom, his mind blank.

A giant poster of All Might's face stared back at him from its place next to a framed photo of U.A. University on the far wall. Katsuki stared at the picture of the building for a good while before he reached over to his laptop and paused the music. As his breathing slowed, he slipped his headphones off and set them upon the nearby computer desk before tossing his sticks onto the bed. Katsuki ran a hand through his damp hair and ruffled out his spikes a bit with a ragged sigh. A dull, familiar sound of shouting voices from downstairs caught his attention, and he stopped his efforts to fix his hair.

"God damn it, again?" he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.

More yelling echoed throughout the house, followed by the sound of thundering footsteps in the hallway at the base of the stairs. Katsuki merely shook his head at the noises until he heard the distinct, piercing crash of glass shattering.

A chill ran through his uncovered arms at the sound, and even louder yelling started up immediately afterward. He tugged his sleeveless black shirt down and smoothed it out over his stomach before tying the drawstring on his basketball shorts and hurrying to his bedroom door. Something else that was glass shattered against a wall downstairs as he opened the portal and stepped into the hall, and he heard his mother's furious voice from down in the living room.

"Well fuck you too, then!" the woman roared. "That money's not yours! How do you think we're paying for U.A. when he gets in!?"

"If he gets in!" Katsuki's father yelled back as the teen began to rapidly descend the stairs. "And it's my money! That's not even the big issue here, and you know it! Stop deflecting!"

Mitsuki's reply was drowned out as a wine bottle sailed across the gap at the end of the hallway and shattered onto the floor of the living room. Katsuki hurriedly approached down the hall until he noticed several large shards of green glass scattered all about. He carefully stepped over them with his bare feet before emerging into the fight, looking furious.

"What the hell is going on now!?"

Mitsuki Bakugo stood in the kitchen, another bottle in hand and ready to be thrown as she glared at her husband. Masaru Bakugo stood across from her in the living room, a couch cushion in his hands and his face bright red. Katsuki wasn't sure whether the color was from alcohol, anger, or both.

"Get back in your room!" Masaru commanded as he turned his attention to his son. "This has nothing to do with you!"

"It has everything to do with him!" Mitsuki screamed as she slammed the wine bottle down onto the kitchen island. "Katsuki, don't listen to him!"

"Both of you, shut up!" Katsuki yelled as he glared at his father. "You two are supposed to be the adults, here! Stop throwing shit and answer me! I'm sick of this!"

"And I'm sick of both of you!" Masaru countered as he threw down his couch cushion and gritted his teeth. "Everything in this house is taken for granted!"

"Oh, with this shit again!" Mitsuki replied as she threw her hands up in the air. "Katsuki's been pulling his weight, and I pay the bills too, you know! What the hell is your problem, now!?"

"My problem is that I've had enough of this charade!" Masaru answered.

"Don't you dare do this!" Mitsuki warned, her eyes blazing. "We agreed th-"

"No!" Katsuki interrupted as he looked over at his mother. "I want to know what's going on! This is almost every day, now! Don't fucking dance around th-"

"Don't you dare talk to your mother like that!" Masaru roared as he began to approach Katsuki.

"He learned it from you!" Mitsuki accused, approaching from the other side.

Tiny pops and bangs erupted from Katsuki's palms as his breathing quickened and adrenaline surged through him. Without thinking, he turned and grabbed his father's shirt before beginning to push him toward the back of the couch and away from his mother.

"You leave her alone!"

"So you're siding with that bitch, now!?" Masaru asked as his son held him back against the furniture in a strong grip. "After everything I've done for y-"

"I'm ending this fight before you two hurt each other!" Katsuki yelled. "This is bullshit! I'm tired of being the mediator!"

"It's not your job to get between us, Katsuki!" Mitsuki agreed as her son looked over his shoulder to face her. "The three of us need to talk, right now, a-"

"I want a divorce!" Masaru yelled. The entire house went silent as Mitsuki stopped her approach, and Katsuki slowly let his father go before taking a step back.

"…what?" the boy asked, looking stunned.

"How dare you?" Mitsuki asked, her shoulders trembling. "You selfish, petty little asshole, he's halfway through his senior year! We agreed not t-"

"I don't care what we agreed!" Masaru interrupted. "I'm done. No more pretending, no more secrets! I'm sick of all of it!"

"As evidenced by your mistress!" Mitsuki countered while pointing with an accusatory finger.

Katsuki began to back up toward the entrance to the kitchen as he regarded his father with a look of disgust.

"What… what the fuck are you talking about, Mom?" he asked, his voice trembling and laced with rage.

"Oh, she's no angel either!" Masaru replied with a laugh. "She's an even worse drunk than I am, not to mention her secret little drug habit!"

"I am clean!" Mitsuki screamed as she made her way back to the kitchen and grabbed for the abandoned wine bottle. "I've been clean for a year! You absolute bastard!"

"It doesn't matter either way! We're done, Mitsuki!" Masaru clarified. "Put that down, or I call the cops right now!"

"Go ahead!" Mitsuki threatened as she kept a hand on the bottle.

Another back and forth began as Katsuki's mind swam with conflicting thoughts. Sweat began to lazily trail from his hairline as he tried to make sense of the situation. He watched as the two adults began to scream and posture at each other once again, and he felt the hot, prickly feeling of vomit start to rise within his throat. Without another word he turned and bolted for the door, letting it slam behind him as he made his way out of the house.

"Katsuki!" he heard his mother yell through the wall as he began to run out into the driveway.

Katsuki just kept running, the pavement freezing against his uncovered feet as he took off toward the sidewalk. As he turned and began making his way down the darkened street, he picked up into a full sprint, the night air mixing with his profuse sweat and the tears on his cheeks to make his entire body feel numb. He had no plan as to where to go or what to do, but he knew he just had to keep running.

Author's Note:

Next chapter will be Bakugo again as a direct continuation of this one, and it will also be lacking a flashback. Kirishima/Mina will be the following week.

-RD